Bomber:Contue flying. Also try to avoid getting into the range of the cliffside emplacements.
"And take that! Now about this bleeding..."Staunch bleeding, if I still have time throw bomb at artillery.
Theo makes a loop back to the barracks buildings and over the coast. He can see that there's a lot of activity near the barracks now: the local soldiers have apparently gotten their shit together and have dragged three heavy machine guns from a low, squat house to the side of the barracks themselves. He isn't in range yet, but this could get nasty.
[5 timelim 1][6] Kelly gets a sudden fit of fright about his wound, so he opens his repair kit, extracts the shard with heavy tweezers, then cleans the wound with industrial alcohol solvent, covers it with a bit of clean cloth from his handkerchief, then with some spare tarp, then he glues the tarp over with epoxy, and then, after what was certainly a carefully-considered decision, staples the whole thing to his flesh. It hurts like fuck, but at least it isn't bleeding no more, yes?
Sadly, the procedure takes so much time that before Kelly can bomb the artillery, Theo has brought the plane over the harbor again.
Height: 50 m
Speed: 60 km/h
Fuel: 1 hr 20 mins
Ammo: 5 5kg, 1 10kgGunner#2:((Rockets then...))
Well, this is a harbor, so they should be storing ammunition somewhere
Look around for things that look like ammunition or fuel stores.
Guide the plane around so that my gunner can fire at any ammunition and fuel storage.
There is a road that leads to the harbor's piers, right past the barracks. Delia follows it for a while, reasoning that ammo and fuel must be brought to the harbor by the road. True enough, there's a low, stout stonework casemate a bit farther along the road, and next to it are several large cisterns of what can be assumed is diesel fuel. Delia guesses that they built the casemate a bit farther from the sea to protect it from being fired at by ship cannons.
[1][6] Robert hoists the machine gun, aims it down, and pulls the trigger. He completely fails to hold it stable, and
[6] the stream of lead chews almost completely through the base of the right lower wing, snapping both beams. The wing is now hanging from the upper one on the few struts that are not yet broken. The only function it now fulfillls is increasing drag, sadly. The plane tilts to the right dramatically and loses some altitude, as well as speed.
From that point onward, the bullets continue on to the fuel cisterns. I'll tell you this. Diesel fuel is not supposed to explode when shot. Apparently, those cisterns didn't get the memo. A massive blast shakes the air below the plane, which, being a tough little bastard, withstands the buffet in an admirable manner. The LMG clacks dryly. Robert closes his mouth, pries his trigger finger open with his left hand, and surveys the resulting devastation. Three of the four fuel cisterns appear to be done for, and the forth is seemingly perforated by shrapnel from the blast.
Height: 40 m
Speed: 50 km/h
Fuel: 2 hrs 45 mins
Ammo: 4 magsShip:The drawing depicts some figure covered with a complex geometric pattern: Wilkinson cannot determine what the figure is, because just looking at the pattern makes his eyes water and his mouth go dry. There is some terrifyingly alien quality in the infinitely interlocking lines that the aviator's mind refuses to process. The sketch itself has apparently slid out of a plain brown envelope with "DO NOT OPEN" written on the side in block capitals.
Wilkinson stares at it for a few seconds more before he is interrupted by a cough. He turns, slightly startled, only to see the captain walk past him and slide the sketch back into the envelope without looking at it. The captain then approaches the mirror and draws the curtains shut before turning to Wilkinson.
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...Forgot to close the envelope. You wanted something, lieutenant?